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#Small bits of writing
bluerosefox · 18 days
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Gray and Graysons
One of the Bats has a secret. Something they never told to the others.
They were so very young but they have memories of a sibling, so small and tiny. They remember the burst of warmth they had in their heart when they held the tiny baby for just a moment.
But they weren’t allowed to keep them, their family couldn’t raise them. Money was tight, just enough for three but not for four, despite their shows always bringing in a crowd it was getting harder and harder for the world to be wowed by them in the new age and their sibling was too small and tiny and needed to be cared in a single place than for them to be on the road. Their lifestyle was not good for his tiny sibling apparently.
They had to watch as their parents gave his sibling away to people in suits, them promising to give his baby brother to a loving family when they find a ‘home’ for him. He watched his parents try to be strong only for his mother to break down once the car left down the road, his father holding her and apologizing, the rest of the circus troupe all silently coming over to give the heartbroken family condolences.
Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson had tears running down his face when he last saw his baby brother.
A brother he got to name before he had to be given away.
Daniel ‘Danny’ Grayson.
-x-x-
Dick never told the others. If anyone dug deep into his past they might find his brother’s birth records maybe, if someone got around to digitizing the paperwork for him but given the fact he was placed in the US childcare systems just a few days after his birth and the fact that Dick was still pretty young they most likely believed he didn’t remember his baby brother now. Not after so many years.
But they were wrong, Dick remembers. And he kept the secret close to his heart and memories.
And the only physical evidence he had was a single picture of him holding his brother, a smile on his tiny face towards their father who had taken the photo of them together. When he had lost his parents, lost most of the things that connected him to them, to his past in the circus that had been his whole life, had been taken from him in Gotham’s ruthless childcare system, he held on tight to the picture in secret. Hid it away from anyone trying to rip it from him, hid it from Bruce when the man took him in days later, hid it from Alfred despite how gentle the butler was towards him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk losing his photo at the time, he hadn’t trusted anyone and by the time he did he didn’t have the heart to reveal it.
So yes, the existence of his baby brother Danny was his most guarded and best kept secret.
So that’s why Dick, as Nightwing, nearly died from a heart attack when leaving a Justice League meeting he spotted a familiar face among one of the new engineers working in the Watchtower.
It was like seeing a young version of himself. Only, Dick could see that the young man was more than a copy of him, so much more than a clone. He held many traces of John Grayson but also had a bit more of Mary Grayson than Dick did. Small details that Dick foggely remembers taking note when he had held his baby brother.
“Hey, hurry up with that report Gray!” Shouted the head engineer from down the hall, his hand beckoning the young adult to come over.
“Coming! And boss, I told you Danny is fine!” Danny shouted back before hurriedly leaving a stunned Nightwing.
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kninedlog · 2 years
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Snippet of something I'm working on: 1
This is something I've been working on for a while now. I'm gonna post it on Wattpad, and probably AO3? I don't know how much original stuff gets off the ground there but in the meantime... ✨shameless plug✨, I'm almost at the funny number of followers, so search up:" inknedlog" on Wattpad (I'll figure out how to promote myself properly soon!) I really like this and maybe actually get the first chapter out soon if I stop being lazy so I hope you enjoy it.
The symbol on the building was very polygonal but yet had this sense of flow. The design was of two dice blocks connected to one another, one positioned in a different way than the other. But what would catch anyone's eyes the second they witnessed it were the dots on the main components of a board game. The dots on the first die were composed in the letter of an "A" with seven dots. The dots on the second die were shipped in the letter of a "P" with only seven more. The neon blue light; so bright that it almost looks white, shone down at anyone wanting to make an entrance inside the AP headquarters.
Avier Protectors Headquarters.
Walking through the big glass doors the woman was greeted by the guards that stood present. Giving them a nod of respect and them returning it Hina had no need to explain who she was or why she was here. Ignoring what every other man and woman in formal business attire was doing up at the front desk, Hina slid right up to a door that had a red velvet barrier rope in front of it. Two gold columns holding it up. In bold neon cursive lettering, a sign hung from the door.
Heroes only!
Hina rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who put these up, and groaned. Hopping over the rope and pushing through the door she entered a long dark metallic hallway that stretched for about 5 minutes. Once she reached a certain part of the walk she started to hear some familiar mumbling voices. The second her face peeked around the corner she was instantly overtaken by a soft gentle hug while simultaneously being lifted up in the air.
"Hey, there kid!" A gruff voice rang out catching the attention of the others in the room. This is Honorable. A tall 6 ft amazonian woman with fair skin and long brown hair traveling down her back. She's built "like a rhino" as most of the men in the hero industry would say behind her back. Her eyes are a bright static blue and she has this cute little mole right beside her left eyebrow. She adorned this silver and bronze armor that had ruby accents lining the rims. A long staff rested tied to her back with both ends of it having a cleaver resembling blade. Her trusty Mightwind.
Honorable is a hero that played all too deeply into the 'medieval warrior of old' aesthetic despite that she spoke like a comic book hero. As most of the heros in the ACPS tend to do having grown up reading them. However, when this heroine would talk about her youthful days, it was as if she came from another planet. It took her a decade or two to get used to the customs here in Avier City and be able to act perfectly as a civilian when posing as her secret identity. Despite all of this, she is one of the top-ranking superheroes in the ACPS. Numbered at 4 for reasons that sort of fly by her head or she couldn't care less of. Hina could never really tell if she was purposefully acting ignorant or the ladder.
That being said, Honorable was a part of Ms. Legends' small group of heroes that saw her as an equal and not a low-class B ranking in this society. Sure, yeah, Hina's not all that like the rest of the B ranks but she's still there.
Everyone in the room reacts toward Hina finally making an appearance. A cacophony of eye rolls and groans escaped most of them, while some rare few waved or acknowledged her existence, kindly. At the bare minimum naturally. Still harboring some of that teenage shyness she grew up with, that alone, made her want to sink into herself. She didn't though, she kept the strong persona...,
"Heeeeey...." Or so she believed. With a strained hello back to the room Hina was finally dropped by Honorable. Sweat spewed out of every pore as she tried to raise her dark brown eyes up towards the big honcho at the forefront of the table. The leader, boss man, the one who created, assembled, and found most of the heroes in the ACPS stared at Ms. Legend with a slight smirk. He's a very young-looking man. He had vibrant and fluffy brown hair with freckles dotting his cheeks and nose and simple soft green eyes. He always looks so tired though with some heavy bags under his eyes yet no dark circles. He must be super loyal to one hell of a beauty care routine at forty-one. Daunting a dark blue suit with gold lining the rim of his cuffs and collar only he seems very professional and high-class. The glasses that stay clipped around the neckline gave him this addition of intelligence to his outlook.
"Ms. Legend. Happy to see you—" he paused himself and looked at the silver watch that rested on his left wrist for a quick second. As if to add more salt to the internal injury of embarrassment on her end. "—a minute late."
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luxaofhesperides · 5 months
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Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited
“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.
Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”
“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”
“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”
Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”
“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”
His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird. 
Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands. 
“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.
“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”
Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.
“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”
“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”
“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”
Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.
Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable. 
Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents. 
He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government. 
He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.
Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.
“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”
Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.
“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner. 
His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense. 
Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap. 
Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half. 
“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.
Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.
He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go. 
“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”
Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion. 
Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint. 
He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”
Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.
“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”
Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.
“Um?”
“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”
“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”
“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”
“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”
Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal. 
The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist. 
He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.
“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”
You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.
I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.
“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”
“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”
“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.
“Duke!”
Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot. 
“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.
“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”
“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”
Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”
He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.
. . .
(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch. 
It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares. 
These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.
But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.
And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.
That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait. 
For now, this is more than enough.)
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turtleblogatlast · 3 days
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Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.
For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.
And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.
I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt raph#rottmnt leo#rise Raph#rise leo#I really do love this bit of character writing a ton#again it’s so small but like this is consistent!#little Raph just wanted to have fun with his bros 😭#Leo immediately coming in with the save both times (and more - remember Bug Busters?)#I really love too how none of them pointed fingers like#it was Understood that Leo would speak for them#listen there’s a reason Leo is the Face Man and it’s NOT just because he’s got a pretty face#he can talk both himself and his fam out of situations and I wish we saw it even more because it’s amazing to witness#circling back to Raph his bold nature is something I ADORE about him but I don’t see it brought up a lot which makes me so sad#like this boy is a RAPHAEL he is bold!!#and it’s cute too how the other bros immediately go along with it too#imo the Raph in these tot flashback is the same Raph that glues them all together as a bonding exercise#side note but damn…Leo saves them from punishment in the tot short and immediately gets jumped 😔#but yeah man I think a Lot about the little dynamics between the bros and how those dynamics could have first came into being#Leo being the face of the team and having been it since childhood-#-makes all the moments of immediately choosing to sacrifice himself when HE royally messes up all the more notable#if it’s one bro or the whole group individually he’s more chill about it but often still lets himself be the talker to get them out of it#he will do his damndest to get his brothers and himself out of trouble but once they’re in it he’s in the front with a smile#his own safety be damned#Raph is actually the same in that respect - he’ll jump into danger fists first but all bets are off when a brother is in danger#and like how Leo’s been the face - as the eldest Raph has been the de facto leader of sorts#he’s the one who is shown to make up their games! and I think that’s very cute#anyway their clashing in the movie is so interesting for a lot of reasons but one of them is that it shows how-#-even a longstanding dynamic like Raph and Leo’s that’s WORKED for so long is still susceptible to flaws…and to time
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osamusriceballs · 6 months
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Kinktober Day 27 <3
Ushijima x dirtytalk
Warnings: NSFW, fem reader
Words: ~ 2,3 k
Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day
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"Here, Wakatoshi-kun! Look at this!"
A phone gets shoved into his face, the brightness level way too high for comfort, but he squints to take a look at the screen. A small grunt leaves his lips at the lack of greeting from his red-haired friend, but he chooses to focus on the screen instead.
It's an Instagram post with a picture of him, one taken during the Olympics. He looks at the picture, confused, but then Tendou starts scrolling through the comments
"I'd combust if he called me 'baby' with that deep voice."
"Do you think he's vocal in bed?" Reply: "He doesn't talk much in interviews, so I doubt it." Reply: "What a waste. His voice is so hot."
"LOOK AT HIS ABS *drools*"
"The world is going crazy ever since you said 'baby' in that one interview!" Tendou wildly gestures with his phone still in his hand, his grin almost smug when he elbows Ushijima. A frown appears on the spiker's face as he tries to recall the interview. It was one that he wasn't too fond of, due to the number of personal questions that had been asked. Way too personal questions for his liking.
"Ushijima-san, do you have any plans to start a family soon? When can we expect a baby, a little Ushijima junior?" "Baby?" he had echoed, clearly taken aback by this question, something that the interviewer probably failed to notice, but to the people close to him, it was fairly obvious. The silence after this question lead to speculation on the internet about his relationship status, something that he has kept private so far.
"It wasn't in a sexual way." Ushijima states after skimming through more comments, raising his eyebrows when the messages get more explicit and vulgar. "I was surprised when he asked the question."
"Doesn't matter! The world is going feral now, everybody wants to be Wakatoshi's baby! And even I have to admit that I got butterflies when I heard you say that. Y/n is really lucky~" Tendou hums, mischief clear in his eyes, but Ushijima fails to follow his train of thoughts with this.
"Why is she lucky?"
"Because she gets you to say sweet and dirty things to her all day long. You can't fool me, Wakatoshi-kun; I'm not only your best but also your oldest friend." Tendou winks and strolls ahead, oblivious to the way Wakatoshi is left standing there with a frown on his face, still.
xxxxx
"Y/n?"
You rub your arms dry with a fluffy towel when his voice comes from the other side of the door.
"Hmm?" you hum, smiling excitedly because he is finally back home. "I'll be out in a second."
"Yes, please. We need to talk." You hear him lean against the door frame, clearly waiting for you to come out.
You freeze at his words, eyes growing wide when realization settles in and you fully comprehend his words. "Talk? Talk about what?" you know that you sound shrill and loud, but you can't help yourself but to feel nervous at his serious tone- even more serious than normally.
"About us." Your jaw drops, and you quickly reach for your bathrobe, hastily unfolding the fabric to its full length.
"What do you mean about us? Is there a problem with us?" You finally manage to pull your arms through the fabric, quickly wrapping the fabric along your body before you open the door. You're met with Ushijima's broad chest as he quickly straightens to his full posture. His olive eyes roam over your body, lingering for a short moment on your exposed cleavage before they return back to your face. He looks nervous, there is no other way to put it. "I'm not sure. I think there could might be a problem."
"And what would that be?" You cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes boring into his face as if you could find answers for his unusual behavior there. You've never seen him like this before. His usual warm eyes are clouded with worry, his hands fidgeting with his phone in his hands. "Toshi? What is it? Please, talk to me." You're tempted to take the phone out of his hands, but you refrain from touching him, not when you don't know what's going on.
"Are you happy with our sex life?" His eyes don't leave your face, not for even the slightest second to see your reaction, and your jaw drops at the sudden question- you expected a lot, but definitely not this.
"I'm- I mean, yes I am? Shouldn't I be? Are you unhappy?" You take a slight step back, creating distance between the two of you, baffled by the sudden implication that he thinks that you're not satisfied. Or that he might not be. Sex with Wakatoshi is great- hard, rough, and passionate. He knows how to fuck you, that is for sure, but he also knows how to be gentle and sweet, how to take care of you and spoil you, especially during aftercare. You lack nothing in your sex life with him- and you hope that he feels the same.
"I am happy. Very. I enjoy sex with you very much much," he states firmly, but that only confuses you more.
"Why are you asking me then? What made you think that I could be unhappy?" You move closer to him, worry etched in your features when you finally take his phone and put it aside to grab his hands.
"Do you want me to talk more? To be more vocal? I saw a video and people kept on commenting how they want me to call them 'baby' and some more things. Would you like that too?" The way he asks nonchalantly like he was just talking about dinner made this even more embarrassing somehow.
"For you to call me 'baby' during sex?"
"Hmm." He nods and looks expectantly at you, his hands squeezing yours while his gaze seems somewhat calmer now that he is convinced that you're satisfied.
"You... you can call me whatever you want. I'm fine with it." You try to sound unbothered and calm, but the slightly shaking note shows how the thought of him calling you "baby" or "his pretty girl" while he thrusts into you does something to you. He nods, hesitating for a second, but then his hands suddenly drop yours to pull you in by the waist, his other hand coming to your chin while he leans down until his lips are close to your ear.
"My baby. Or would you rather be my babygirl?" His honey-like voice almost puts a spell on you, and you find yourself shivering in his arms, thighs involuntarily clenching together. "S-sounds good, Toshi." You bring your hands up to his chest, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt and his slow and steady heartbeat.
"And what would my babygirl like me to do? Does my babygirl want to be touched?" He lowly mumbles against the shell of your ear, your heart now beating faster when his hands start to roam over your body. "Yes," you breathlessly answer, hands slightly clenching into the fabric of his shirt. Definitely not what you had expected as the outcome of the conversation, but vocal Wakatoshi makes your pussy throb with every single word.
"My babygirl needs me to touch her, huh? I will take care of that pretty little princess cunt." He kisses your cheek, and your legs feel like jelly at this point. You cling to him, hanging on every single one of his words. You feel your arousal growing, feel how you start to get wet the more his hands keep touching you.
"More," you whisper, feeling hot and bothered while he keeps on touching you and pressing kisses to your neck. "More? Is my babygirl needy? That pretty princess cunny needs me to touch her?" He lifts the bathrobe just enough to place one hand on your thigh, and you feel like your body is on fire when he touches you there.
"Yes," you gasp, your hands now finding purchase on his shoulders while you cling onto him like your life depends on it. "What does that little princess cunny want? My fingers?" He grazes his fingertips along your thigh, moving dangerously close to your pussy under the bathrobe- bare, and basically creaming for him the longer he keeps playing with your body.
"Or my tongue?" he licks along the column of your neck, and you gasp at his words, the sensation hot and forbidden god. "I want to taste you, baby. You always taste so sweet. Do you want my tongue between your legs? Licking at your pretty pussy?" His fingers reach your throbbing pussy, slightly parting your folds and dipping in your wetness.
"Do it, do it, Toshi, please," you press your legs together around his hand, effectively caging him right where you need it. "Hmm, but you have to cum on my fingers first." He pecks your cheek and pulls his hand away from your legs, just to place it on your hips to guide you towards the bed. "Lay down for me, baby. Open that bathrobe for me."
His baritone echoes through the room, and you feel yourself doing everything like you're in a haze, full of need for him. "Hmm, that's my good girl." He hums apporvingly when you discard the bathrobe on the floor. Your body is trembling in the cool air of the room, but Ushijima is quick to join you on the bed and to hover above you, radiating so much heat that you instantly feel warm.
"Baby, spread your legs for me. Show me everything." You take a deep breath and slowly part your legs, revealing your glistening folds to him. A shiver runs down his body, and he clears his throat before he speaks again, his voice now lower when he is obviously bothered and turned on by the situation. "Look at how wet you are for me. All for me."
You frantically nod, anticipation rushing through your body while you wait for him to touch you. His fingers finally roam over your thighs, and your head falls back into the pillow at the way he touches you, the way he knows exactly where and how to touch you.
"So impatient. I can't wait to be inside of you, to feel you around me." Your gaze falls to the tent in his pants, the thought of him fucking you making your head spin and your pussy throb with need. His fingers move between your legs, moving along your folds and pressing against your clit. You moan at the sensation, your hands fisting the sheets when his thumb prods on your entrance.
"You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for me to touch you, to fuck you. And you feel so good around my fingers." He pushes his thumb inside of you, and you almost close your legs around him. "I will make you feel so good. I will make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock." You clench around the digit at his words, your eyes focused on his handsome face while he keeps on rubbing your clit. "More, please more," you whine your body shaking underneath his. "Shhh, I'll give you more. I'll give you what you need, baby." His eyes roam down your body and you almost protest when he pulls his thumb out, just to quickly replace it with three of his fingers. "Oh, Toshi," you whine, your hips arching into him, and you start to fuck yourself on his fingers. He keeps the fast rhythm, pulling his fingers out, and pushing them back inside, curling them pulling them out again. "You feel so good. You're is creaming for me, look at that." His words only add fuel to your desire, and you grab his shoulders to push him down to you to connect your lips in a needy kiss. He groans into your mouth, his movements slowing down for a few moments before he sets his rhythm again, a fast and punishing pace now.
Your nails rake along his bare shoulders, leaving red marks, and he groans at the sensation. "Come on, baby girl. Let me feel you clench around me. Cream on my fingers, make a mess for me," his voice sends you over the edge, and you moan his name when you cum, your walls pulsing and clenching softly around his fingers. He groans your name, sweet praises of how you're his good girl, how pretty you look under him, how much he loves you, leave his lips and your body arches from the bed into his while your face contorts in pure bliss.
He prolongs your high, making sure to keep his pace and to curl his fingers just the right way, and your body goes limp when he finally slows down. His lips meet yours, pressing chaste and loving kisses to your face. "Was that okay?" The slight frown on his face is back, a clear sign of him being deep in thoughts when he pulls back after a few more kisses.
"More than okay. I think I could cum from your voice alone." You smile up at him and cup his cheek, the afterglow making you feel so good while you lay under him.
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity now sparkling in his eyes at your words, and you are quick to explain further. "I- I didn't mean that literally. Like- I just wanted to say that your voice is hot. And you are hot." Your cheeks heat up when he simply nods and hums, a mild smile on his lips.
"I want to test that out. Let's see if I can make you cum with my voice alone, baby."
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bri-does-art · 1 year
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You know, for the spin off CotA thing, I'm pretty sure moon would be the type to sneak out of his tank and eat the expensive fish in other tanks, just because. Could also see him being the one to throw shrimp at people, also just because he can
Oh, absolutely. He absolutely does sneak out to help himself to tasty, forbidden snacks. Not just rare and expensive fish, but also morsels saved for other residents of the facility.
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It can be quite the headache for employees, when the meal they were supposed to go fetch has suddenly disappeared into thin air. But he's clever enough not to do it too often, and not to target the same species too predictably, lest the staff get wise and catch him in the act. He knows he could get in quite the trouble if he eats too many expensive midnight snacks.
Speaking of trouble.
He also does throw stuff at people. He used to throw a lot of little things at guests - especially if it could get a few laughs out of some kiddoes, instead of tears (he is big, he has thin needle teeth, he glows red, and his area is kept dark for his comfort, and unfortunately sets the children on edge before they even see him). But after getting into trouble a few times too many with angry, soaked parents, he's learned to be... smarter about picking his targets.
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And if you're thinking this tank looks a bit small, low-set, and the guests a little too easy to reach, this can't be Moon's tank...
That's because it isn't. :)
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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 11 months
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Whumpers! This is your two-week head start to the Two Weeks of Whump Challenge commencing on the 3rd of July!
[Image ID/More information under the cut]
Promptsforyourwhumpfic’s Two Weeks of Whump Challenge - July 3rd-July 16th
To celebrate six years and nine thousand followers, I have compiled a small whump challenge. 
For each day, you gave been given three items/ways to hurt your chosen character with. You can use just one, or all three for each day! This isn’t limited to writing, you can create gifsets/draw etc. There is no limit. 
For those posting to Tumblr
Please tag @promptsforyourwhumpfic and/or use the tags #TWOW or #TwoWeeksOfWhump. 
For those posting to AO3:
I have created the Two Weeks Of Whump Collection (thank you for recommending I do this @dollopheadedmerlin​!) 
You can tag me at @SurroWhump
Prompts list: 
1) Poker - Shock Collar - Ashes 2) Bio-Weapon - Isolation Chamber - Needles 3) Car Battery - Scalpel - Alcohol 4) Belt - Gas Mask - Cage 5) Broken Glass - Building Collapse - Necktie 6) Kitchen Knife - Gunshot Wound - Gag 7) Cyanide - False Imprisonment - Blindfold 8) Rope - Nails - Water Inhalation 9) Acid - Branding - Meat Hook 10) Rusted Metal - Phone Call - Hammer 11) Chains - Hanging - Muzzle 12) Baseball Bat - Coffin - Nail Gun 13) Mystery Pill - Gaslighting - Fishing Net 14) Barbed Wire - Scissors - Corkscrew
Remember: tag accordingly, especially when it comes to trigger warnings!
FAQ’S
Why just two weeks? I understand not everyone has the time/stamina to do a huge challenge, so I thought two weeks was a good compromise!
Miss a day? Don’t worry! It’s not the end of the world, you can always catch up in future. This challenge is not limited to these two weeks, if you’re finding this two months after its over, then you’re more than welcome to take part!
How much do you need to write/do for each day? As much or as little as you’d like. If a drabble turns into a full fic, brilliant! If you only have the time for a sketch that's fine too! 
Want to know more? Message me/send me an ask!
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poetryoutloud · 1 year
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sleep for the unfinished - v.w.
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rodolfoparras · 6 months
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Thinking about different types of kisses w/ Price
Thinking about Price leaving soft pecks on your nose cheeks and chin because he’s narrowly missing your lips, bleary eyes barely paying attention to where your mouth is, coarse mustache hair leaving a pleasant stinging behind him, lips tasting of toothpaste, and the bitter coffee Price insist on drinking so early in the morning while a warm callused hand sneaks under your shirt, traces shapes into your skin, before fingers clutch onto your hip as he deepens the kiss
Thinking about passionately kissing in the rain after going directly against his orders, standing head to head toe to toe, with his hand grabbing at the nape of your neck and glaring up at your form because remind me again of who you are to go against his orders? His tone is rough so are his words but so is your appearance after going head first into what might as well have been your very last mission.
You try to explain, try to reason with him, it was for the best, for valuable intel, he doesn’t listen only laughs, and not in amusement but like he’s on the verge of tears and laughing is the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely, before he smashes your lips together.
Your gasp mingles with the sound of thunder before you relax into his grip and lean into the kiss, it’s nothing gentle, lips as harsh as the pelting rain, coarse hair scraping against your skin and teeth clashing together, kisses as unforgiving as the hand on the nape of your neck,lips pressing so harshly against yours it almost hurts and tongue roughly licking into your mouth til you’re sure you can taste blood
One of your hands yank at his wet curls while the other hand presses onto his back in an attempt to pull him impossible closer as if your ribcages aren’t already knocking together, as if your clothes aren’t sticking to each other as if the very same raindrop isn’t landing on his cheek before trickling down onto your chin
Thinking about hurried kisses with Price where clothes are carelessly falling to the floor, hands eagerly exploring each other, loud smacking sounds echoing throughout the room, drool dribbling down your chins, while the two of you roll around in the sheets, slow and needy kisses where Price suckles on your tongue to savior the way the two of you taste as he rides your cock, the short and sweet pecks after coming down from your highs, with him looking all fucked out hair mussed face flushed and a soft smile on his face as he falls asleep happy and satiated
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bluerosefox · 7 months
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Tim, buddy, what do you mean you might had accidentally made a Love Child?!
Danny finds out that
1. He's a clonish 'love child' of two heroes
2. He was accidentally created during one of his donors mental break downs after losing his father and best friends (one of which was his other donor)
3. CW interfered before his creator realized what he made and pulled him out of that dimension because "it would had lead that world to true ruin if he found out at his state of mind. He's better now but it would had been the final straw for him should anything had happened to you in his care and given who he had to partner up with later... I did what I had to."
4. Due to Danny having a bad fall out with his parents after he told them about being Phantom (they didn't attack him... but they did disown him.) Danny is left adrift of what to do. He doesn't wanna bug Jazz, she's in college and dorming. Tuckers place has no room. Sam's parents would never let him stay. Vlad was a definitely a no go. And Dani (Ellie) last check in was near the Amazon rainforest.
5. Danny finds out some of his powers might not be as ghostly as he thought... it does explain the huge power boost some of his powers have compared to other ghosts.
6. He went to Clockwork... who proceeded to tell him the truth, smile his cryptic smile while saying "and now. Have fun this time around. I'll see you again in due time Daniel." Before yeeting him into a portal.
7. Danny woke up in his home dimension.... deaged to being five years old (the age he would be if he stayed and grew by now) (DC timeline is slower than DP in this)
8. He woke up apparently his creator's home city... during a Gala (Danny woke up in a garden, dazed and confused. His memories are fuzzy)... and wandered into the party... and apparently he looked like a perfect mix of his.. dads? Which catches A LOT of peoples attention.
9. Especially with Tim Drake-Wayne and Conner Kent-Luthor just announcing they're dating that very night.
10. Rumors and gossip of a random kid, who looks just like the recent happily announced couple, go flying quickly among the elite... and reaches certain ears before it gets to batfam and supers (I have a feeling they learned how to block out rumors and gossips during these events)
11. Those ears happen to be Lex Luthor and Ra's al Ghul (both who are there at the Gala just to annoy and unnerve the Bats and Supers)
12. By the time the rumors get to Tim and Conner, they find Danny almost getting taken away by one of those two.
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mokulule · 1 year
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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 7
Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6
Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence
I had wanted to do some tag appreciation for the previous part before uploading this but well stuff happened and I need to leave for work soon, so priorities and all that, and I bet ya'll rather want the update than my chatter XD But know that I really appreciate the comments and tags you guys leave me <3
Damian sat in a corner of the library, knees drawn up to his chest. The crumbled up piece of paper burned in his left hand. It shouldn’t. He’d had a hunch and he’d followed it. He’d been right! This was pertinent information. He should have informed Father immediately and yet… He breathed slowly out his nose. He turned his hand around palm up so he could glare at the offending ball of paper resting there.
He was right, but then why was he so uncertain? Why was he hesitating? He was Damian Wayne! Son of the Batman! He should not dawdle, that is not how he was trained!
No matter how much his so called siblings would tease him for his height, there were advantages. Like how when Todd had pulled the dazed Ghost to his feet, the short man had never really looked up which meant that Damian who was shorter had seen the way his eyes glowed green, unlike his father. Because a short while later, when he pushed away from Todd his eyes had been blue. Father would assume the ghost’s eyes were blue, because he hadn’t seen the green. Father would have no idea to look into what Damian had, because he’d missed a vital clue. A clue Damian had been withholding. Damian let his head fall down onto the arm holding the paper and sighed. He was withholding far worse than a clue now:
There were traces of Lazarus Water in the blood sample. Damian felt the childish urge to scream, but he would not give in, he hadn’t fallen that far. It always came back to this, always; like a curse on Damian’s family, one thing after another and it always ended up back there - by the sickly green glow of the pits.
Father wasn’t always exactly rational when it came to the Lazarus Pits or the League of Assassins or Todd.
And maybe Damian had gotten a little bit used to Father looking at him like his son. Maybe he just wasn’t all that excited for Father to look at him like Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson again…
Alfred, the cat, slinked around the door left open a crack, instantly drawing Damian’s eyes. The tuxedo cat padded silently over to him and stopped. He looked expectantly at Damian with the same unimpressed gaze of his namesake. Damian cracked a fragile smile, and uncurled into a crosslegged position.Satisfied Alfred jumped into his lap. He started batting at the paper ball and Damian quickly stuffed it into a pocket and acquiesced to the demand for pets. It was barely a moment before Damian’s effort was rewarded and the purring started. Slowly, Damian relaxed back against the wall and his shoulders gradually came down from their tensed position. Animals were so much easier to understand than people.
The Ghost had purred…
The sound had been just at the edge of his hearing, but it definitely had sounded like purring. Father hadn’t heard it. Damian had asked him if he’d heard the cat, but he’d dismissed him as if he thought Damian had heard a real cat. There was no way he would have done that if he’d actually heard. The sound… it had been something else; there had been this inherent happiness to it.
Damian would admit he’d been startled. He’d never heard a human purr before. Not even Catwoman, his father’s illicit paramour, actually purred, not really. She did something with her voice at times, probably the closest a human could come to a purr, but not like the almost continuous sound of a real cat. Humans just weren’t built for it.
Which pondered the question, what exactly was the Ghost? He had reacted very oddly to Todd (Damian would admit in the privacy of his mind that he’d been alarmed to see the man nuzzle into Todd’s chest as if he was actually an overgrown cat in disguise). There was Lazarus in his blood, so maybe the reaction to Todd wasn’t so strange. He hadn’t reacted in any way special to Damian, but that wasn’t so odd either. Damian knew Todd was different. There was a reason Grandfather feared him. The Pits hadn’t revived him, they may have brought his mind back online and brought some lasting effects, but Todd had crawled out of his grave months before that; Todd was something else.
Maybe Todd and the Ghost were something similar?
Todd had definitely heard the purring. He had been completely unlike himself, there had been a complete lack of the usual hostility from him afterwards. Todd must have also seen the eyes, he had to have made the Lazarus connection. He hadn’t reported anything about it either. But again this was Todd, he wouldn’t share information with Father unless he thought someone’s life depended on it.
Whatever DNA had been in the blood sample was useless for analysis, it had been too damaged, so that didn’t bring them any closer to figuring out what he was.
Then there were the powers, Todd didn’t have those. Invisibility and intangibility… No, the Ghost couldn’t actually be a ghost, could he?
Alfred nudged the hand that had stopped the petting and Damian dutifully started back up again.
Richard often acted like he didn’t have two brain cells to rub together, something that fooled even Damian in the beginning, but he was surprisingly astute if he let you see if. Damian had presumed the Ghost codename had been merely a ploy to annoy Drake and Gordon, but Richard was not beneath hiding a theory as a joke. If he was correct, he would have all the power, if it wasn’t it was after all just a joke - it was a good strategy.
As if summoned, Richard stuck his head into the library and glanced around. He seemed just about leave when he caught sight of Damian’s nook.“There you are Dames-“ he strolled inside, “I wanted to say bye before heading home, so I’m glad I found you.” He crouched down next to him and smiled widely eyes crinkling with it. It was so effortless for him.
Damian frowned.
“Hey, you okay?”
Damian glanced up briefly. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, but maybe Richard could answer something else.
“Do you think the Ghost could actually be a ghost?”
And there was that sharpness behind the kindness, that moment of calculation of what might have brought this on, whether Damian knew something, before it was hidden behind a smile again.
“Dami-“ he started and lovingly ruffled Damian’s hair. Damian quickly batted his hands away, before he got the misconception that he liked it; because he didn’t! Blue eyes crinkled further and then he continued, “we’ve seen stranger, haven’t we?”
And that brought Damian to a stop, hands still raised protectively over his head. Alfred looked between the two of them and gave an affronted mrauwp.
“So sorry Alfred, old boy, didn’t mean to disturb you.”
While Richard appeased Alfred, Damian slowly lowered his arms. Richard was right of course, but there was something else too, the assurance in the flippancy. Whatever the Ghost was, it didn’t really matter, they would deal with it, like they did everything; everything had some sort of weakness. And the Ghost hadn’t actually been hostile.
The core of the issue was the Lazarus Water. Lazarus Water didn’t enter people’s blood on their own and Grandfather kept a sharp watch on all the pools. There was a very big risk the Ghost was affiliated with the League. Coerced? Created? Murdered?
Damian narrowed his eyes, it was useless to ponder without more information, but the League at least was something Damian could look into discreetly. If there was increased activity in Gotham he would find it. He didn’t have to tell anyone yet.
“You work out what was bothering you?”“Tt.” He quickly looked away from Richard’s knowing eyes. Unfortunately that left him open for another hair ruffle. Richard laughed and jumped away and back to a standing position in one smooth motion, before Damian could retaliate somehow. Damian glared and only got a soft smile and wave in return.
“See you in some days, baby bat.”
Damian pressed his lips together and waved dismissively. “Go, before I decide revenge is worth removing Alfred.”
Richard’s laughter followed him out the door and down the hall. Damian finally allowed the small smile to form. Whatever happened, whatever Father may think of him keeping secrets, he could at least count on his big brother to stay the same. Oo o oO
Tim had been reviewing the new proposals from R&D when Bruce had stopped by.
The spectral calibrator team had obviously been disappointed to learn they would be reassigned and that the larger project to tune into electromagnetic signals from other dimensions had been put on indefinite hold without the calibrator, but they were a professional bunch and they had quickly come up with some fresh ideas.
Tim really didn’t want to consider what use the thief would have had with the calibrator, but it was kinda his job. It was meant to help hone into the (for lack of better term) frequency of a given dimension and remove the noise from the various other planes of reality - he just really hoped they weren’t dealing with a science portal to Hell scenario. Magical portals were at least usually temporary in nature but most importantly they were the JLD’s problem, not Tim’s.
Maybe the thief just really wanted to listen to some alternate universe rock?
Yeah, fat chance.
Tim had not found signs of the stolen items being resold, which pointed towards the thief having specific buyers or he was building something himself. At least the spectral calibrator was safe in the Cave.
A small beep notified Tim that the decryption program had a match on the passcode for the phone Bruce had dropped off, and he rolled over to have a look. The phone was not a brand Tim recognized, it was from the pre-smartphone era and didn’t even have a camera. It had been easier for Tim to just take it apart and hook it to power to get it up and running - it was then he noticed that someone had modded the receiver and transmitter, it also didn’t have a sim card.
Despite the lack of sim-card, when Tim looked at the now open phone it claimed to have a full signal from the most prominent telecompany in the larger bay area. Tim raised an eyebrow - curious. The text messages were empty, and a root around in the settings found that read messages were automatically deleted after 24 hours - the thief were really keen on keeping his secrets.
In the “phone book” which was a rather quaint old school term for the contact list, Tim finally found something that alluded to a normal life. Something that could maybe give them some information: Dad, Jazz, Mom, Sam, Tuck, Val - pretty sparse contact list. All the numbers had the same area code, which put them somewhere in the Midwest, if Tim was remembering correctly.
Tim considered for a moment then pressed the up button until he reached “Mom” again and pressed enter. Butt calls had been a real problem with this phone type if people forgot to lock them, it wouldn’t be so strange if Tim didn’t say anything. With any luck they’d get confirmation on the name Danny.
There was a single dial tone then a feminine voice announced:
“The number you have called cannot be reached.”
-
Woohooo yay, I think we're done with "the detectives detective-ing" for now which was the extend of my notes before writing the last two parts (parts 6 and 7 are going to be a single chapter once they go on Ao3). Hope you enjoyed, I got a serious case of Damian feels while rewriting chapter 1 for Ao3 (here's a link if you missed it), so that's the explanation for why Damian decided we needed his pov Next
Masterpost for subscription
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stellamancer · 9 months
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hey lonely stranger (won't you meet my eye?) — extra scene
note: this is less an extra scene and the other side of part of a scene. i was going to put it in parenthesis like that one bit in lip smackless, but didn't pan out. also thanks to @/namodawrites for helping me double check gooj characterization since my regular beta was playing bg3 LMAO.
wc: 663
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Satoru is used to your denial. When you're with him, it's part of who you are— ingrained into your soul, hard-written in your body like a cursed technique. He finds that he doesn't mind all that much. It's kind of entertaining, really, especially when he's realized how much you are at odds with yourself when you reject him. 
You constantly deny him and yet you are more aware of him than you are of anyone else. 
It's honestly hilarious.  
So, the relief that fills his lungs when you say those three words, when you air your denial, albeit not for him for once, surprises him a little. Satoru can say, with the utmost confidence that there was absolutely no way that you were into that guy, even if he made you genuinely laugh, even if he was the first person you sought out when you got the chance. He only asked you again to give you the chance to make peace with the truth. 
Besides, if you're going to be into anyone then it would have to be—
You're not looking at him. Your gaze is turned away from him, distant and unfocused. It's like your thoughts are wandering the night sky, drifting into the cosmos. You let the words out but are you thinking about it still? A happy, normal love? He thinks you would know better than to think you can find it lurking among the stars. 
Not when you can find it here on earth.
With him.
You're not looking at him, but Satoru wants you to. He wants you to look at him. Not at the sky, not at the stars, not at some stranger who doesn't have a place in your present, let alone your future. 
At him. 
Satoru knows you would hate it if you knew, if you realized, but it is so easy to get your attention, to draw in your gaze. All he has to do is say the right thing (or maybe it'd be more appropriate to call it the wrong thing) and your eyes will be on him in an instant, your gaze fiery and intense. 
"You know," he says, amused at the thought of the expression you're going to make. "Even though I was obviously the hottest person in the room, you looked pretty good yourself."
It's not a lie. It's clear that you went all out for this event, taking great care in making sure you looked your best— dressed in clothes much nicer than anything he's seen you work in. Satoru's even willing to bet you tried your damndest to actually get a full night's rest. 
His words work like a charm and you whip your head to face him. The look on your face is interesting; dazed, amazed. He's not familiar with this expression of yours and he leans in to get a better look. Without thinking about it, he reaches for your cheek, his fingers stopping short of your skin. For a split second, your eyes flit toward his hand, clearly aware of how close he is to touching you. Satoru's eyes trail down to your lips and he wonders if you've been using the lip balm he gave you. It looks like you have, with how soft and plush your lips look, but he should make sure— he wants to make sure. 
It's then your denial, your rejection comes out in full force. You take a step back and next thing Satoru knows you're falling into the water. 
Huh. He thought for sure this time you would have accepted a kiss from him. 
It's okay, he thinks, it's only a matter of time. Besides, the view of you right now, stunned and almost mortified is a worthwhile trade. 
It's actually hilarious. 
He starts laughing and you give him your usual scowl, splashing at him in retaliation. He doesn't mind, he'll let you have that much because one day, one day soon he'll get that kiss from you. 
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pupyr0arz · 5 days
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To Color
to influence, especially in a negative way; distort or exaggerate.
Soap x m!reader: references to reader being AMAB, being a gay man, being in a gay relationship, etc. minimal pronouns. Part 1.
Summary: Every human on earth sees the world in blacks and whites and grey until they touch a specific individual, romanticized as their fates love. You don’t buy into that, you’re happy as you are and don’t need or want a stranger barging into your life just because your eyes decided they were important. Johnny disagrees with this conclusion.
warnings: Johnny is a bad, bad man, and reader is going to be miserable for a while, sorry. General cws for creepy, pushy behavior, sexual harassment, stalking, and Johnny not respecting Reader’s autonomy or ability to choose. More warnings may be added. Mentions of sex. Minors DNI
@gatlily @focalor-hydro-archon hey pst. Pssst.
Soulmates are overrated, overhyped, over-mentioned, over talked about. It’s awfully inescapable, in movies, in ads, on the news, in books, and the looks you get for complaining about it, like you’ve declared a blood feud on the concept. You just want some peace from the expectation and all the assumptions of glitz and glamor for five goddamn seconds, but lately that blood feud is looking mighty tempting.
Your cynicism in regards to fated lovers wasn’t part of anything dramatic, like in the movies where the skeptic always got revealed to be the child of a divorce caused by soulmates or something equally inane. Your parents weren’t soulmates, which was honestly average. Most people never met their soulmates and lived perfectly fulfilling lives. Soulmates weren’t the end all be all of love, and when they did show up they certainly didn’t all fall into the simple shapes a romcom would tell you.
Your father could see color, his soulmate was platonic in his cousin, the two of them were close friends and they lived just down the street. You’d come up on the porch while your cousins played in the yard and sipped sour lemonade and bother them about how colors looked, and they’d argue about shades and how to describe it. Your father always wanted you to meet your soulmate, wistfully regaling the first time he ever saw the blueness of the sky. Uncle Jeremy would just pinch your cheek and wave you off with a laugh. You had a really normal childhood, honestly.
You got tired of the game in high school, when blossoming hormones and teen drama rocked the school for weeks on end over and over about the same damn things. You were old enough to really have coherent opinions about the world, and fated lovers had turned from funny stories from your father and ads on tv to in your face irritants. One of your friends friends faked seeing color for two weeks to date a guy she really liked. You weren’t extremely close to either, you sat with them at lunch and watched them in periods and they seemed happy. He dumped her in a flash, and moped around school afterwards and all you could think about was why color seemed to matter so much to people.
It sounded fantastical, sure, you wouldn’t mind having an extra sense. You daydreamed about color coming to you in a whirl, setting the world alight in a billion lights, seeing things in new clarity and depth. It was hard to imagine, some other attribute lurking just outside of vision that stained the world in strange, vivid ways.
Bonded people opened museums, attractions built for viewing color in odd ways that blended and blurred together to your black and white vision. Hidden objects and paintings and other things that they cooed over, long essays about vibrancy and the million metaphors for color. You don’t really buy into any of it, if you could taste the crispness of a shade of ‘red’ then what’s the deal with feeling it with your eyes? You’ve eaten apples before, you don’t need to see the flavor to enjoy it. Why should you be so desperate to sacrifice so much, when you already have senses that give you joy?The thing is, with fantastical things is that they’re fantasy, they aren’t grounded in anything solid or real, and you weren’t enthusiastic to take that leap of faith and step onto open air and pray it was a trust fall, not a jump to your death.
You could live without color, and honestly thousands and thousands of people got on perfectly fine. It’s not like any part of society was really based on seeing color these days, other than the fine arts. You weren’t artsy anyways, you never managed to get into it. So what if you didn’t really know whatever ‘green’ really was, did it really mean the end of the world? the end of a relationship? Why would you throw away something that made you happy, something stable, for a complete stranger? Your mother was perfectly happy with your father, and she had never met her soulmate. What if your soulmate was a family member, or a friend? Why did everyone always hold out hope they’d find a perfect marriage partner, when it seemed like soulmate bonds could be something like a perfect smoking buddy to a perfect brother? Honestly, romance didn’t seem so dependent on the whole farce at all. You could build something that didn’t need anything but whites and blacks and all of the shades between. You might not be able to see the red of a rose, but you could enjoy the shades of gray that painted the world with someone you could trust to always hold your hand and have your back.
You dated a handful of people, most of whom were still holding out hope of brushing fingers with their ‘truest love’ to see the beauty in the world. As you got older, more likeminded people cropped up, less likely to vanish and ghost you to wander off on their ‘journey’ to find their soulmate. You had your first kiss, lost your virginity, moved in and out with other people. Relationships blossomed and fizzled and died and you picked yourself up afterward with the occasional thought of ‘Jesus, I couldn’t imagine trying to make THAT one work as my one and only’ before you carried on. But all of that was before, in the section of your life cut so neatly and sharply in two that it was hard to believe they were ever, or could ever be joined.
All before you met him.
You met him on a dating app, which was remarkable enough. It was built for quick hookups, but most dating apps that advertised themselves for long term relationships were soulmate based and you found that crowd to be endlessly irritating. He’s bi-curious, you’re the first man he’s ever dated and honestly that almost turns you off entirely. But you decide you have no better prospects at the moment, so what the hell.
Charlie’s cute, and he greets you with a nervous smile and can barely meet your eyes, he tells you with red eats that he’s ninety nine percent sure that he’s gay and that his friend has been begging him to just take them plunge and you nod and give him some dutiful advice. You’re definitely not looking to be a guys experiment, that rarely ends well, but he invites you out to dinner where he loosens up after a glass and goes on an impassioned rant about theater etiquette and suddenly things are actually interesting and you’re talking too loudly for the table over but you couldn’t care less.
He’s funny, nervous but out there and you talk about musicals you’ve never heard of and tv shows he’s never seen for forty five minutes before you reach across the table and grab his wrist. The sex is light, he makes you laugh through blunders like banging his head against the wall and you kiss afterwards and it feels light and sweet. It’s blissful, honestly, something you’ve forgotten you were missing at all until you’ve been handed it. You keep things non penetrative, he’s far from trying bottoming and you’re not a fan of being on the other side of it, and you have plenty of fun keeping him awake with all the other options. You talk to him again the next day, and then the next, and then his number is in your phone and you’ve been going steady for months.
Charlie isnt a perfect Prince Charming, he’s got his issues. He’s over the top and he pushes himself to meet standards and crumbles at the last second and you’ve had your fair share of screaming arguments. Work is stressful and some nights you go to bed in different rooms because you can’t stand dealing with him. You have your own issues and Charlie complains more than once, rightfully you’re forced to admit, about you being cold and reclusive when you get angry at him, and you’ve had to buy apology ice cream more than a couple times. But you have movie nights and kisses and cake together and a warm, building feeling in your chest. You go out to the zoo, try and fail to learn how to knit together and eat buttered toast with too much black pepper over the kitchen sink on Saturday mornings. You don’t get into anal but he gets really good at giving blowjobs, and those slept mornings spend kissing and exploring each others bodies fill you with a precious glow.
Charlie isn’t your one size fits all, but you’ve managed to find him a slot in your puzzle, and built him a home in your heart together. You love Charlie, and he loves you too, tells you so with cheesy flowers and you buy him one of those dumb necklaces that click together that you totally don’t love. He brings you lunch at work and you drive him home from visiting his parents, and your friends are fine enough with his to go drinking together every couple of times. His best friend does your tarot readings and gets an awful tattoo you laugh about together. You cry and he doesn’t
Life is good. It’s not effortless, it’s not magic, but it’s good because you made it so. You’ve pushed and pulled and made something with your bare hands, and you have the luxury to sit back and watch the alabaster glow of the sun brighten Charlie’s face into a million beautiful shades of gray.
Life settles into a comfortable rhythm, and soon Charlie’s inviting you as plus one to a wedding and you start thinking about rings and commitment.
That’s all before you met him, though.
It happens like in a storybook, so trite that hours after it happens you’re wondering if you suffered some serious brain damage. Maybe you got hit by a car, or had a delayed reaction to the weed your friend passed you last week, or something happened to scramble your thoughts into this strange new unreality.
You’re visiting the library when it happens, dropping by after your shift to pick up some new reading material, not looking where you’re going. Charlie’s texting you a million and a half recommendations while you’re planning on picking up some awful garbage to groan and complain about later while he makes fun of you, and you’re typing a dick joke involving one of the sillier titles you spotted on the shelves. You bump into him, not a shoulder check but you run into him like a wall and he barely stumbles back. You’re not a small guy in the slightest but he’s built like a brick shithouse, Jesus.
“Ah, hell, sorry man.” You apologize, giving him a sheepish smile. “My foul. I should watch where I’m going.”
He doesn’t puff up with anger or anything but flashes you a toothy smile, so you relax. “Dinnae worry ‘bout it, mate.”
Oh, he’s Irish or something, the accent is thick as all hell. It sparks your interest, a definite standout from the midwestern folks living here, and you don’t rush away to continue your browsing. You don’t walk away, like you should’ve, you don’t realize that in two years this will have become your biggest, most shameful regret.
He peers down at you, light eyes, ivory maybe? He’s got a weird haircut, some kind of half committed Mohawk thing. It’s an awful haircut, really shitty, so you politely avert your eyes from the active train wreck and send a prayer for any casualties, and realize you’ve dropped your phone on the ground.
“Ye dropped—“
“Ah, let me—“
You both reach for it at the same time, and your fingers brush, and the world changes, and you have all of a half a second to freeze in shock and confusion before you accidentally headbutt him and fall over.
Maybe he had a thick enough skull to really hurt you. You would know.
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roomy-ghosted · 8 months
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My feelings towards ao3 this morning.
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#genuinely i didnt do this on purpose i was just very tired when i went to draw yesterday and did pose practice instead of new comic#but then i see franz kafka trending this morning and i remembered this hellsite has the most arbitrary holidays i love it#dr draws#danganronpa#dr#ndrv3#drv3#kokichi ouma#ouma kokichi#kokichi oma#oma kokichi#glittersart#TAPP AU#if you want it doesnt have to be#but i am working on an ask about how everyone is holding up post-sim#mostly in writing if thats alright bc im not positive yet how to draw out the story i want to tell#and therein is a small headcanon that kokichi kinda. for several reasons has a bit more intense a time than most of his classmates#and sometimes he Needs to sleep at arbitrary times during the school day. if he wont do it voluntarily he'll just kinda faint-#- which is especially frustrating for him because the lack of control and his inherent distrust of most people fuel his paranoia-#- and over time he designates a couple of Probably Secure places around campus that he can sleep if his dorm is too far.#ive started setting it up (itll take a lot of drawing to explain it all) but one of them is the animal shed#i do want to try actively to write about Students Who Aren't Kokichi but this all did start bc im kinda fixated atm#actually i think kokichi has been in all of the comics so far. like at least appeared#which will probably continue to be true as kokichis brand of pranking#('i put a kick-me sign on kaitos back and when saihara sees it theyll have an excuse to talk. all according to plan.')-caliber#is a nice device to crash characters into eachother like bumper cars
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dandelion-roots · 5 months
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[ID: a pencil and ink drawing of dazai and chuuya from bungou stray dogs. dazai is sitting with one leg bent in front of him and the other bent on the floor. he's shirtless and has stylized top surgery scars and a variety of scars. his coat is draped over one shoulder and he's wearing his white pants and black shoes as well as bandages around his neck and visible arm. his head is tilted to the side and he's blushing and smirking as he looks at chuuya whose head is at dazai's shoulder. chuuya's right hand is holding dazai's hair and his other is holding dazai's forearm from where dazai is holding chuuya's shoulder. chuuya is also blushing and looks annoyed. he's wearing a shirt and black pants. the signature says dandelion-roots. end ID]
✨ a little 2 am trans dazai for your perusal~ ✨
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